


Brothers in Arms

by appleschnapple



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-21
Updated: 2011-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:11:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appleschnapple/pseuds/appleschnapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Nathaniel is less than happy to discover Anders isn't dead, and Hawke is less than happy to discover Nathaniel is taking advantage of his baby brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers in Arms

Hawke had, he felt, handled the news of his lover's apparent death rather well. There probably weren't many people out there who'd have responded with “Anders, is there something you're not telling me?” - though whether this was actually a particularly good response was most likely up for debate. On the other hand, he'd certainly handled the news better than Nathaniel had, and honestly, _he_ had received the good news. As they both listened to Anders' explanation (and admittedly, Hawke was rather relieved to find out he hadn't unwittingly been bedding a corpse the past few years), Hawke noticed Nathaniel's face taking on a (somewhat intimidating) glower. At first he'd thought it was simply anger at Anders abandoning Vigil's Keep to is fate – not entirely unreasonable; Hawke himself would have been at least a little tetchy about something like that – but the hurt look he sent Anders' way implied something far more personal.

 _Oh_. He looked at Nathaniel suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. The man was certainly handsome enough. Hawke had spotted that much for himself earlier, though now he found himself slightly more critical. (His nose was too hooked. He sounded like he'd been gargling gravel.) It didn't take a great stretch of the imagination to picture him and Anders – well frankly, Hawke didn't want to picture anyone with Anders that wasn't him, but if he _did_ , he could probably have pictured it quite easily. He'd picked up enough from Anders (with some helpful input from Isabela) to know that Anders had been considerably less... discerning about his bed partners before Justice, and far more willing to sleep with people without the dramatic confessions of love afterwards. (He was still teasing Anders for that – good naturedly, of course.)

Even knowing all that, he had to fight the urge to punch Nathaniel in the face, the urge growing increasingly more irrepressible as Nathaniel continued to look at Anders with a brooding gaze that would have made Fenris proud. (The elf in question, scouting ahead, probably hadn't noticed – though, if it were possible, he seemed to be treating Anders with even greater contempt after Anders' little revelation.)

“So, the Deep Roads,” Varric began, clearly aware that the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife and that Fenris was unlikely to help break it. “Lots of happy memories for everyone, I imagine.”

“I liked the part where we didn't die, and didn't so much enjoy the part where we nearly did,” Hawke said, though his heart wasn't really in it. Varric let out a perfunctory laugh even so. Hawke wasn't exactly surprised that Nathaniel's face didn't even twitch, but he couldn't help but be a little disappointed that Anders wasn't indulging him. For all his earlier light-heartedness, it seemed that Anders was at least aware that allowing the person he'd been sleeping with to think he was dead was in rather bad taste, and had stayed quiet for the most part. This had done little for Hawke's mood – for all that he was willing to joke about it, he did not remember the Deep Roads fondly. No matter what else happened here, he'd always associate it with Carver; pale and sickly, the veins on his face standing out in stark contrast to his skin, his mother crying when he'd returned without his brother beside him. It wasn't anything he'd ever admit out loud, of course, but he'd have appreciated Anders' support.

They continued to walk, dispatching the smaller groups of darkspawn with ease, and Hawke was taken aback when both Anders and Nathaniel came suddenly to an abrupt halt, and for possibly the first time since they'd met turned to face each other.

“Darkspawn,” said Anders, a little hollowly. “Lots of darkspawn.” He hesitated. “I'm out of practice. Is there... anyone with them?”

Nathaniel just frowned, notching an arrow into his bow and breaking into a run. Hawke and his companions followed suit, Hawke uncomfortably aware that he'd just missed something and not sure what.

Nathaniel sent an arrow flying as soon as the darkspawn came into view, a lone figure in silver and blue standing amongst them. Fenris, glowing almost painfully with the unaccustomed brightness against the dark, ran ahead, cleaving his way through the darkspawn that stood in his way. Hawke, aware that the group he'd brought along was perhaps less than ideal, slammed his stave against the ground and felt loose rock encasing his body protectively before running ahead into the fray – ignoring Anders' yelled protests.

He set a wave of healing energy pass over Fenris as he passed him, and made to freeze the darkspawn attacking the Grey Warden, trapping them in a cone of ice. The Grey Warden looked up at him, and – of course. His life would be nothing without the incessant need for it to make a good story. Honestly, Varric was damn lucky to have met him – for everyone else, he'd have had to make up far more details than he had for Hawke. He was sure Carver's look of shock mirrored his own, but his wore off sooner and he pointedly fired a bolt of arcane energy at the darkspawn making to attack his brother from behind. Carver flinched as though burned, and turned back to face the rest of the darkspawn making their way towards them.

The fight was over quickly, at least – though Hawke knew he was not going to get the image of Carver being tossed aside by an ogre out of his head any time soon. Anders was making his typical post-battle rounds, patching everyone up (or, in Fenris' case, forcing him to “drink a damn potion if you're going to be so stubborn, you bloody ingrate”), and Hawke couldn't help but smile. Occasionally, when things became... difficult with Anders, it was nice to be reminded that at the heart of it all the man was still a healer. (And a damn sight better than Hawke himself, who had only learned the simplest healing spell with much cajoling and practice.) Too distracted by this, he did not notice Nathaniel approaching Carver – but he _did_ notice the (tender, oh Maker it was _tender_ ) embrace that followed.

“I-- hey!” he spluttered. “Hands off of my brother!” The two split apart, Carver's face glowing red with embarrassment that was visible even in the dark, and Hawke would have felt bad if _that bastard hadn't had his hands all over his brother_. Nathaniel looked from Carver to Hawke and back again, his face a picture of bewilderment.

“Your brother?”

“My brother,” Carver sighed, still avoiding Hawke's eye. “Champion of Kirkwall, slayer of wrong-doers, whose shadow I can't seem to escape from.”

“Younger brother issues _later_ , Carver,” Hawke growled, glaring at Nathaniel who was still much too close to Carver for Hawke's liking. “You! Is this what the Grey Wardens do? Take advantage of people,” he scrutinised Nathaniel for a second, “ _at least_ ten years their junior?”

“I am _not_ being taken advantage of!” Carver protested, but both Hawke and Nathaniel's attention was directed entirely towards the other.

“I'm sure there's no such age difference between you and Anders,” and Hake flushed hotly because only _he_ was allowed to bring that up, and when he did it it was only gentle teasing.

“You and _Anders_?” Carver asked, sounding torn between amusement and horror. “I suppose I should have seen that coming.”

“Shut up, Carver,” Hawke said, gritting his teeth. “I swear, if you've touched one hair--”

“I think your brother is quite capable of making decisions for himself,” Nathaniel snapped, and Hawke found himself wondering just how easily he could set the man on fire and make it look like an accident. He was sure his brother would get over it eventually.

“Well obviously you don't know my brother very well,” Hawke retorted shortly, ignoring the dirty look Carver sent his way. “Especially seeing as you didn't know I _was_ his brother.”

“And yet for all that, I at least know his _name_.” Hawke clenched his fists, because to the Void with magic, he was going to beat this man senseless with his bare hands--

“As great as this pissing match is,” Varric interrupted loudly, “I think you'd better get over here. Blondie's not looking so good.”

All concerns over his brother's virtue thrown aside, Hawke ran over to the rest of the group. Anders was sat on a slab of rubble, appearing to be resting most of his weight against Varric, his face pale.

“M'fine,” Anders mumbled, against all evidence to the contrary. Hawke forced out a laugh that sounded more afraid than he'd have liked.

“You'd better be,” he said, hands running across Anders as he tried to find the injury that'd caused this. “I'll... I'll be rather upset otherwise.”

“Come on,” said Varric gently, giving Hawke a light pat on the back. “Let's not bring out the tears just yet.”

Hawke had found a few cuts and scrapes, though nothing more serious than yet more patch-jobs on Anders' coat, and was finding it increasingly difficult to remain calm, his search becoming more frantic.

“Wait!” Nathaniel had approached them, looking over Anders with a critical eye. “What's that?” He pointed at a small but vicious looking bruise by Anders' shoulder, exposed by a hole in his robes.

“Bolt,” Anders said slowly. “Healed it.” He looked up at Nathaniel, eyes wide. “Poisoned?” Nathaniel nodded, and Anders let out a shaky laugh. “I always get the poisoned one.”

“Some things never change,” Nathaniel replied lightly, before turning his gaze towards the others. “I'm going to need to draw it out. It's a rather painful process. It can be... difficult to watch. I'd understand if you need to--”

“No.” Hawke knelt beside Anders, and took his hand, panic mounting at how cold the other man seemed to be.

“Right.” Nathaniel sounded entirely unsurprised. “He'll... need something to bite down on.” His gaze flickered around the group, and to Hawke's surprise Fenris was the one to step forward, offering the red scarf he'd taken years ago on _that night_ and had, for whatever reason, clung onto ever since. He was glad that Varric apparently wasn't aware of the history behind that thing, or the dwarf would have had a field day over the symbolism of it all. Hawke caught Fenris' eye, who looked down sharply, eyes facing the ground as he handed the scarf over to Nathaniel. Nathaniel ran over the material with his fingers for a moment before nodding, and passing it to Anders, who took it with only the briefest hesitation and bit down.

Nathaniel pulled a knife from his pack, eyeing it with slight apprehension and turning to face Hawke. “Could you heat this for me? It should help infection setting in.”

Still clutching at Anders with one hand, Hawke let a small ball of flame build up in the other, Nathaniel turning the blade over the heat. Anders let out a small whimper, and Hawke's grip tightened, tightening still further as Nathaniel sank the knife in.

\- - - 

“Thank you,” Hawke said quietly. Anders was sleeping, his head rested in Hawke's lap, Hawke allowing himself the small pleasure of running his fingers through the man's hair.

“I think I should be the one thanking you,” Nathaniel replied mildly and a little sheepishly. “After all, Carver and I would likely both be dead if you hadn't come.”

“If I'd known my brother was with you, an archdemon itself wouldn't have held me back.” Hawke paused. “All right, it probably would have done for a little while.”

Nathaniel laughed – quietly though, so not to disturb Anders. “I think I can see why he likes you. You certainly seem like a better match than I would have been.”

“Did you... I mean, were you...?” Hawke gestured towards Anders questioningly. Nathaniel shook his head.

“No, though I think after Vigil's Keep I wanted to believe I did.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't. I've long since moved passed it. It was just a little alarming to come face to face with him again.”

Hawke snorted before he could help himself, and then smiled apologetically at Nathaniel. “I can imagine.” His gaze fell over towards Carver, who was talking animatedly to Varric. His brother looked different in a way that could not be explained away by the passage of time. “You're good to him, aren't you?”

“I hope so.” The fondness in his voice was proof enough for Hawke.

“Good. Otherwise I'd have to kill you, and he'd sulk.” Hawke contemplated his brother for a moment. “Or kill me himself. He's gotten pretty good with that sword. So yes, please don't hurt him. It'd save us all a lot of trouble.”

“You have my word.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, until Carver looked over towards them and then eyed them both suspiciously.

“You're not talking about me, are you?”

“No,” said Nathaniel, at the exact same time that Hawke said “yes.” Carver scowled at him, and, nodding briefly at Varric, began to make his way over.

“So, you and Anders...” he began, and Hawke rolled his eyes irritably. Maker, he hated how his brother just _had_ to stick his nose into other people's business.

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, I spent ages dithering over whether to post this because it's indulgent even by my standards and I'm not terribly fond of it, but upon re-reading it's not nearly as bad as I thought.


End file.
